


of terror and teeth

by poe_daaaayyuuuumron8



Series: OW [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Monster Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Supernatural Elements, Supernatural Elements is Reaper, pure angst, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poe_daaaayyuuuumron8/pseuds/poe_daaaayyuuuumron8
Summary: “You move even theslightest,I’ll blow your goddamn brains out, Reaper,” Soldier: 76 says, the gun pressing Reaper’s owl mask into the ground.Reaper laughs, more like a sputter, really, as his face can’t seem to remain solid, drifting away here and there. “Like to see you try, Morrison.” The gun falters.Or:A chance encounter, and a dead man walking.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: OW [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051115
Kudos: 46





	of terror and teeth

Reaper, in all his mythical, terrifying glory, smoking and burning and dying over and over again, takes a shot from a pulse rifle to the stomach. 

Jack Morrison pulls the trigger, in that long abandoned warehouse. He pulls the trigger and Reaper gets hit, flying into the wall. 

Reaper’s healing ability will kick in soon, it’s not like he can really get hurt anymore.

After all, he is dead. 

But a pulse rifle- that can do damage, even on him. 

He hits the wall hard, slides down it, and rolls with the momentum. 

He’s just about to get up when the barrel of a gun presses into his skull. 

Now, Reaper has never been one for the dramatics, but he can’t help but to think that this is all quite prophetic, really. The last time Jack Morrison held a gun to his head, Reaper, or the man he was before, died. It’s fitting that he stands here today. 

After all, it is their anniversary. 

“You move even the _slightest,_ I’ll blow your goddamn brains out, Reaper,” Soldier: 76 says, the gun pressing Reaper’s owl mask into the ground.

Reaper laughs, more like a sputter, really, as his face can’t seem to remain solid, drifting away here and there. “Like to see you try, Morrison.” The gun falters.

Suddenly, he grabs Reaper’s jacket, hauling him up against the wall, and the barrel is on his forehead, the owl mask the only thing separating the metal from skin. 

“How do you know that name.” It’s hardly even a question, ground out more like a threat than anything. Reaper grins underneath the mask. He feels his cheeks start to split open.

He reaches up, and takes off the mask. 

“C’mon Jackie, you really gonna shoot me on our anniversary?”

-

Jack really didn’t know that faking deaths would become such a popular thing among Overwatch’s command. Ana, then him, and now…

Now Gabriel.

But it’s not Gabriel.

His eyes are bloody-red, black where it's supposed to be white. His skin, that deep chocolate color that Jack had associated with home, turned pale, half disappearing in chucks of black smoke. His face is littered with scars, most prominently on his cheeks, where long pale lines stretch out like a grotesque smile. 

But, _god_ , it’s Gabriel.

_God_ , it’s him. 

The gun falters, nearly falls. 

Morrison stands there, as Gabriel (god, it’s him, he’s alive, he’s Reaper, he’s the one the New Overwatch has been hunting like a dog) smiles, wider and wider. 

“Speechless?” Gabriel says, in a voice so unlike his own. “C’mon Jackie. Don't like what you see?” He frowns, his face turning mockingly sad, for just a moment before he’s grinning, grinning, grinning like the Cheshire Cat in a child’s story book. 

“You…” Jack chokes out uselessly.

“Am alive?” Reaper finishes, sitting up slightly, an arm resting over his bent leg, looking effortlessly normal, and unfazed. “No. No, I’m not alive. But I’m still kicking.” He’s still grinning, too much, too wide, and Jack vaguely feels his legs give out, feels himself hit the ground. Reaper watches, something amused in his eyes. 

“Aw, c’mon Jackie,” Reaper purrs. “What’re you so surprised for? You and Ana are still alive too, don’t act like this is a new thing for you.” He rolls his eyes, and for a second, the blood-red can’t be seen and his eyes are just black pits. Jack’s stomach rolls. 

“Quit mourning me.” Reaper’s smile fades, his face melting into a hard mask. “You’ve mourned me enough.” 

“What…?” Jack starts, struggling, and struggling, and just staring. 

“You started mourning me the second I turned my back on you.” Reaper huffs a laugh, that smile slowly growing back. “Golden-Boy Jack Morrison, you mourned for my death years before it came. Because to you-” he laughs again, and for a second his mouth melts into smoke, “-to you, the moment I stopped my orbit around you, unlike everyone else, I was dead to you.” Reaper laughs, Jack cries, his shoulders shaking. He is thankful for the visor and mask, because he doesn’t want Gabriel to see him like this. 

“Not Gabriel.”

Jack looks up. 

“You’re thinking of me as Gabriel, I’m not him. He’s dead. In fact, he has a grave you can visit, if you want to. Right next to yours.” Reaper tilts his head. “‘Gabriel Reyes. Gave his life in service for the United Nations of the World. Fighting for justice, peace, and security, at the greatest cost,’” he recites his gravestone. “Funny, I don’t really think whoever picked out my inscription knew the whole story.” He laughs, turning his gaze directly to Jack’s. “Beloved husband, Commander, and friend of all,’” he finishes. 

Jack knows the inscription by heart. He’s been too many times to count.

“Beloved husband.” Reaper laughs, rolling his eyes. “They definitely didn’t have the whole story.” 

Jack winces, visibly. “It’s our anniversary.” 

Reaper smiles, and Jack doesn't think it’s just his imagination that’s making his smile wider, stretching, distorted and twisted. “Sure is. Happy anniversary, Jackie. To far too many years together!” He raises an invisible glass, laughing. 

Jack stares and stares and stares, and hates that he can’t bring himself to do anything but blink. 

There are noises coming from outside, and the door far away bangs open. Reaper doesn’t react, but too many years as a soldier make Jack jump up, gun at the ready. Gunshots and the distinct sound of metal on metal, and the sound of projectiles through the air. 

Reaper sits, and grins, and Jack can hardly look at him. 

“Whaddya know, Jackie?” Reaper laughs in that hauntingly familiar tone. He smiles and his face splits open, cheeks stretching into a toothy maw. Jack can’t help but to stare at the black smoke and far too many teeth and tongue. The tongue, too long, too dark flicks into view, running over all the teeth where the cheeks should be. “Our time’s running a little short.” 

Reaper’s suddenly right in front of Jack, limbs dripping black smoke. Jack jerks back in surprise, nearly stumbling to the ground.

“Until next time,” he whispers, his lips too close to Jack’s face. He smells like death, and sweat, and blood, and musk, and something so uniquely _Gabriel_. Reaper steps backwards, letting his body fall as gravity tips him backwards. Halfway off his feet, he disappears into that cloud of smoke, and is gone before Jack can move.


End file.
